


Timing is Everything

by BloodyAbattoir



Category: Original Work
Genre: Cheating, Murder, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 04:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17175572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodyAbattoir/pseuds/BloodyAbattoir
Summary: A few minutes can be the difference between life and death.





	Timing is Everything

Timing is everything. More specifically, a few minutes could mean the difference between life and death. How often had your parents warned you of this? Countless times. Did you ever take heed of them? Never. Until, now, you realized exactly what they were going on and on about. 

 

You'd left work at the usual time, 5 PM on the dot. You were in your car at the usual time, a few minutes past five, and by 5:10, you were headed back to the flat that you shared with your partner of the past two years.  The two of you were close, but lately, you'd felt the flame between the two of you flickering. It hadn't quite gone out yet, but it was struggling for life. 

 

Traffic was lighter on the I-4 than usual today, cutting your travel time dramatically. Instead of getting home shortly after 6, your usual time, you were home just shy of 5:45, nearly an entire half hour early. Strangely enough, there was an unusual car parked in front of your building. While you weren't obsessive over keeping tabs on the neighbors, you did happen to notice who drove what, and unless someone had visitors over, or they had bought a new car, the flashy red sports car was a sore thumb among the drab older-model sedans that littered the lot. 

 

Even though you rationalized it as someone having a visitor over, or perhaps rented a sports car for a short getaway, fear coiled in the pit of your stomach, and anxiety whispered at the back of your spine. You couldn't shake the idea that it was more than just a visitor, more than just a coincidence. A cold shudder ran down your back, and you ignored it. Way to let stress get to your head. 

 

The walk to your front door was simultaneously long and short. It was too long, long enough to allow dread to build up over you like a dark stormcloud, ready to burst at any given moment, but at the same time, too short to let your heart return to normal. The key scraped around the lock for a few moments, your hands shaking too badly to let you unlock it. Your body tense. You couldn't help the stab of despair that clutched at you when you heard a noise from inside. 

 

The door swung open, finally permitting you entry to your own home. There were a pair of unfamiliar shoes next to the entryway. They were the wrong colour, the wrong size, to be either yours or your partners. Even as you tried to rationalize it as being a friend of your partner visiting, you bit back a sob of frustration. This was all wrong. 

 

Another noise summoned you to the bedroom. There. A stranger and your partner. In the bed that you up until recently had happily shared. Then, all you could see was red. 

 

In the distance, you could hear the strange man saying that he made a mistake, he wouldn't be here if he knew that your partner was with someone else. Apologizing to you, if such could be considered an apology. Raging at your partner. It seems that they betrayed him as well. Your partner's voice, trying - and failing - to explain this all away. 

 

You wanted to kill them both. Grab a kitchen knife and stab and stab and stab til there was nothing left of either of them, before turning it on yourself. If you had a gun, you'd shoot them both, a clean shot between the eyes for him,  a shot to the spine for them. Let them suffer. If you were stronger, you'd likely fight the stranger in your bed hands on, throttling the life out of him. 

 

Instead, when the red finally cleared from your vision, you found yourself in the bathroom. Empty bottles of pills surrounded you. Screaming outside. Someone was banging at the door. None of it mattered. Not anymore. 

 

Your eyes slid shut just as the door smashed in, sending splinters of cheap wood flying in every direction. 

 

The next time they opened, it was to the sight of a white ceiling above you. The scent of disinfectant hit your nostrils. A hospital, no doubt. To your left, a small table, with a note bearing your name. It was from your partner. Former partner. A 'Dear John' letter of a sort. They had made their choice. It was you against the stranger. The stranger had won. 

 

If only you'd arrived home at the usual time, you would've been none the wiser, and life would have continued on as normal. Instead, you made the grave mistake of not getting caught in traffic this time, and you'd paid for it with a relationship you'd highly valued, and nearly with your life. As you'd learned the hard way, time could make all the difference. 


End file.
